From the Ashes
by ph0biafied
Summary: AU fic. Maggie is a homicide detective with a dark past, and when she loses her father (Shawn Michaels) she loses everything. In an effort to start anew, she moves to a new state and winds up partners with Dean Ambrose. The two of them become entangled in an all consuming race to catch a serial killer who targets only the most innocent of victims. Dean Ambrose/OC
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Although I'm not entirely new to fanfiction, this is the first thing I've written in a looooong time, so I hope that you all, dear readers, find this story as fascinating as I do. I have big plans for this one.

Disclaimer: I most definitely do not own WWE or any of its characters. In fact, I own little to nothing at all, so it wouldn't be worth it to sue me anyway. :P

Chapter 1: A Fistful of Dirt

Magnolia Michaels kept her eyes glued to the coffin in front of her, and the rest of the world seemed to melt away. She didn't hear the eulogy, or the sobs of her fellow mourners, or even the words of comfort that were muttered to her throughout the service. All she could see was the only true father she had ever known, stuffed in a satin lined box, his blue eyes forever closed… She had her own amber eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses, a thin layer of protection to hide her raw emotions from the world around her. Yet as the coffin began its slow descent into the earth she could not stop the tears any longer, and they seemed to pour endlessly down her cheeks as she stood in somber silence.

With a shuddering breath she managed to will herself forward and plunged both her hands into the loose, cold earth. As she rose to her feet again she held her hands forward, the small pile of dirt filtering slowly through her fingertips onto the black coffin below. Having accomplished her task, she wiped furiously at the tears tracking down her face, unmindful of her dirty hands and the muddy streaks she had left behind on her cheeks.

All at once the world seemed to flood back to her and suddenly there was too much noise. The preacher droned on with the end of his sermon, his voice sounding hollow and morose, and the children who had attended clung tightly to the skirts of their mothers, sniffling loudly. Over it all, the sounds of the nearby highway could be heard and Magnolia felt the desperate urge to be gone from this place. Her sorrow weighing heavily in her heart, she turned abruptly and made a beeline for her car, eager to leave the grave behind and grieve in the privacy of her own apartment where no one could watch her cry.

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Hunter Hearst Helmsley was late for the funeral, having caught a last minute flight to San Francisco the moment word had reached him of his old partner's death. Shawn Michaels had been his best friend for years, and no amount of flight delays or rush hour traffic could have stopped him from making it. As it was, he had barely found parking and had to jog three blocks to make it when he did. Tugging at the sleeves of his slightly too-small funeral suit, he discreetly found a place near the back and joined the mourners.

Immediately he became lost in his own reflections, remembering the time spent with Shawn as his partner, two detectives out to clean up San Francisco. It brought a wry smile to his face and he felt his eyes watering for the umpteenth time that day. He would have stayed lost in his memories for much longer had he not noticed the lone woman who stepped up as the coffin was being lowered into the ground. She wore shades to hide her eyes, but there was no mistaking his best friend's adopted daughter.

Her chestnut hair was worn in a long braid, swept over her shoulder and reaching nearly to her waist. She wore a sharp black pantsuit - he noted with compassion that it had probably been a last minute purchase - and black flats. Sensible shoes for walking in a graveyard… he had noticed several women in heels struggling to find good footing on the soft earth. She had grown so much, and he realized with shock that the last time he had seen her she was fresh out of high school and joining the police academy. Yet here was a grown woman, broken with the loss of her father and suddenly alone in the world.

Just as he felt a wave of remorse for his own absence from so much of her life she made an abrupt about face and began walking quickly back toward the road. With one final glance toward the grave of his best friend he made the decision to go after her, surprised how much he had to hurry to catch up. The girl was serious about taking off.

"Maggie!" he cried out just as she reached her vehicle, determined to not let her leave without making some kind of contact. Sure enough, she heard him and turned around, her hand resting lightly on the door to her battered black sedan. He wondered briefly if she would recognize him, but then she removed her shades and the answer was evident in her watery eyes. Without thought he wrapped her small frame in a tight hug and she pressed her face into his chest, weeping in silence. "I'm so sorry…" he trailed off, knowing that no words of comfort could truly make her feel better.

Slowly she broke the embrace, taking a step back and as she lifted her eyes to meet his he wiped the dirt smudges from her cheeks. "It's been a long time…" he began, "and I'm sorry about that."

She took a deep breath and he could see her struggling to regain her composure. When she spoke, her voice was clear and strong. "I understand… Hunter… Dad always knew you were there for us, he – he understood why you moved away."

Hunter nodded, trying not to feel put out because the last time he had seen her he had still been _Uncle_ Hunter. She was a grown woman now, but he could still clearly remember when he had first met her. He could still see the terrified eleven year old, and the hell she had lived through until Shawn and Hunter had rescued her. Suddenly he shook his head to clear those awful memories. "Look, I'm always gonna feel like I should have been here more, but at least I can try to make it up to you now –"

Abruptly she shook her head, "You don't owe me anything, Hunter. You and Dad were the best family I ever could have asked for." She reached out to give his hand a tender squeeze, and then replaced her sunglasses and climbed into her car. He reached to stop the door before she could close it and drive away.

"Okay, okay…" he began, wanting desperately to connect with her again and let her know she didn't have to be alone. "Maggie, the guys at the station, when they let me know about Shawn…" His voice broke and he took a moment before continuing, "They also let me know that you quit. I'm not going to give you a lecture or anything, but I would like to give you a job."

Reaching for his wallet, he quickly pulled out a card and passed it to her. "That has my home and my work number on it. I'm not asking you to make any decisions right away, but…" He glanced around them, taking a deep breath of the ocean air and knowing that, for him, it would always conjure sad memories. "If you want a change of scenery, I know you're a damn good detective and you'll always be welcome in my department."

She shook her head, "Hunter-" she began, but he raised his large hand to cut her off.

"Just think about it, okay? I know you need some time, and I know you can take care of yourself. You've had a hard life, kid. It's your choice, I just… wanted to give you the option."

With a nod, Maggie took the card and slipped it into her pocket. She offered him one final smile, and he could see the warmth as well as the heartbreak in it, before she drove away. He stared after the car long after it had disappeared into the distance, wondering if he would hear from her and hoping fervently that he would.

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3 Weeks Later

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_She could hear the rain. It gave her some small comfort, though she had been plunged into darkness for far too many hours to count. Had it been days already? She shrunk further into herself in the corner of the room, her back against the cold cement, and listened to the sound of the rain. Though she tried to clear her mind, she was dimly aware of the metal shackles around her ankles, for every time she moved she heard the heavy chains slither across the floor._

_For a while she had done nothing but cry and scream and strain to free herself, the metal shackles biting painfully into her flesh. But then had come the punishment, and the horrific realization that she may never escape this place. She licked her chapped and cracked lips with a tongue that felt like sandpaper, and bitterly wished for a drink of water that may never come. But still she listened to the rain..._

_Then came the slow grinding sound of metal on metal, and she knew that the lock to her prison was being turned. She watched with terror as the heavy door swung slowly open, allowing in just enough light for her to clearly see her captor, grinning wickedly in anticipation as he slowly descended the stairs. And though she thought she had no tears left in her, they began to fall again and she screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice hoarse and foreign sounding. But no amount of screaming would help her now, as his heavy footfalls drew nearer and he reached his filthy hands toward her. His fingernails, broken and caked with grime, traced almost gentle patterns on the soles of her feet and she kicked at him, her sobs turning to shrieks as she lost herself to panic. He uttered a single, satisfied sounding laugh and seized her by the ankles–_

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With a cry, Maggie jolted awake, pushing her sweat soaked bangs from her forehead and struggling to calm herself down. At first she recoiled at her unfamiliar surroundings before gradually remembering that she was spending the night in a hotel. She pushed herself out of bed with disgust, willing away the memories that haunted her nightmares and gave her so many sleepless nights. Her hand reached suddenly for the phone, but she set it back down when she remembered with a jolt of sorrow that the man she wanted to call was gone… she would never hear his voice again.

Biting her lower lip, she forced down the sobs that threatened to overtake her and rose on shaky legs to walk to the bathroom, where she took appraisal of herself in the mirror. Her face and hair were a sweaty mess, so she splashed herself down with the coldest water the tap could produce. After drying herself off with a soft white towel she took a deep breath and faced her reflection again. The dark circles under her wide amber eyes had been ever-present since Shawn died, and she had grown used to the thought that she may never sleep well again.

Her long wavy hair had started to come loose from its braid and she roughly pulled it out, running her fingers through the chestnut locks in lieu of a brush since she didn't feel like digging through her suitcase. Her complexion was a little too pale, and the small freckles that lightly dusted her nose and cheeks stood out in sharp contrast. "What am I doing?" She asked herself, turning away from the reflection and returning to sit on the hotel bed. The digital clock read 4:14 AM, so she decided to prepare for the day instead of trying to pick up some more sleep. After all, she had no desire to return to the nightmares that had become ever-present since the loss of her father.

Maggie pulled out her road map and studied her route. She had stopped for the night just outside of Portland, Oregon, and knew she still had quite a few hours to drive before she reached her destination. Heading out on the highway had been rather comforting, and her nervousness about starting anew in Spokane, Washington was eclipsed only by her relief at leaving San Francisco behind. She could no longer deal with the memories there. And though she had doubts about accepting Hunter's offer, she at least had faith in herself as a detective and if nothing else, she knew damn well how to do her job.

She dressed for the day in haste, eager to hit the road again, and simply threw her favorite green sweater on over a pair of nice jeans. Though it had been pleasantly warm when she left California, she knew that the autumn weather would be significantly colder when she reached Spokane. After pulling her hair into a high pony tail and putting on a bit of pale pink lipstick Maggie judged herself ready and dragged her suitcase down to the lobby to grab a cup of complimentary coffee and check out.

Just a few hours away from her new life… but she never could have imagined what awaited her.

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A/N: Wooooo! If you stuck with me through that first chapter, THANK YOU! Please let me know what you thought and take the time to review! The next chapter will introduce Dean Ambrose (and all his sexiness). And if you are wondering, there should be plenty of lighter moments in this story to balance out the very dark themes. This is my first time with such an ambitious story, so I hope I'm doing an okay job. ^_^


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Full House

When Maggie finally pulled her car off the road at the address Hunter had given her, she found herself suddenly consumed with doubt. The house in front of her looked like it belonged in a Norman Rockwell painting, and she could just envision the happy family living within. With a groan she rested her brow against the steering wheel, half tempted to pick a random direction and drive away as quickly as possible. What the hell was Hunter thinking, inviting her to live with him? This had to be her worst plan ever. Before she could tuck tail and run, however, she heard the front door swing open and knew it was too late.

"Maggie! You made it!" The welcoming smile on Hunter's face was almost enough to assuage her fears, and she couldn't help but return it with a crooked smile of her own. Taking a deep breath, she exited the car and pulled her lone suitcase out. She had barely set it down before Hunter seized her in a hug, lifting her clear off her feet. She realized briefly that if he'd wanted to, he probably could have broken her in half easily. The man was just as physically impressive as when she had met him in his prime, fourteen years ago.

Despite herself, she felt a laugh bubble up from her throat and squeezed him back just as fiercely. When he finally set her back on her feet she had forgotten her nerves and she allowed herself to be a little excited at the prospect of starting a new life here. "You haven't changed your mind, have you? Still want me working in your department?"

Hunter barked out a laugh and shook his head at her. "You know any department in the country would be lucky to have a detective as good as you are, Maggie."

She felt herself blush at the compliment and turned her attention back to the massive ranch style home in front of her. "I'll grant you that one, but… are you sure you want me living here? I mean, with your family and everything?"

He grinned at her words and gently took her by the elbow, hefting her suitcase easily in his other hand. "Just wait 'till you meet Steph and the kids, they're excited to get to know my favorite niece." He winked at her before continuing, "And don't worry, we have a little guest house in the back, so you'll have your own space."

Maggie felt herself relax a little more, grateful that Hunter realized how nervous she had been at the thought of imposing on his family life, and let him lead her around to the guest house. It was just a simple two story apartment style building, complete with a bedroom, bathroom, and its own kitchen. "Wow… Hunter, this is great. You know I can't thank you enough…" She fought the tears that threatened and blinked them away, "I'll make sure you don't regret this decision."

"I want you to know that you're a part of my family, Maggie. No matter what happened… you don't have to be alone."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and grinned back at him, "Thanks-" Abruptly she was cut off, as a beautiful brunette swept in through the open door and immediately threw her arms around her.

"Oh, Maggie, we've waited so long to meet you!" Stephanie squeezed the younger girl with enthusiasm, and behind her flocked in three young girls. She finally released her and stood back, beaming with pride at her children as she introduced them. "I'd like you to meet Aurora, Murphy, and Vaughn. Girls, this is your Aunt Maggie."

Though she blushed at the title, Magnolia knelt down and offered the girls a warm smile. She would always have a special soft spot for children. "Hey kiddos. I'll need you to show me the ropes around here, I haven't made any friends yet."

The eldest, Aurora, smiled widely back at her, "That's okay, Aunt Maggie, we'll be your friends." She spoke confidently, while the younger girls blushed and hid behind their mother, clearly shy around new people.

Stephanie exchanged a glance with her husband and held her youngest daughters by the hand. "Alrighty, girls, let's let your Auntie have some time to get settled in. We'll see you for dinner, Maggie. Hope you like mac 'n cheese." The girls giggled as their mother led them back to the main house, and suddenly it was just Hunter, lingering with his adoptive niece.

Maggie elbowed him playfully when she noticed the faraway look in his eyes. "Hey now, no crying on the first day."

He smiled down at her, but the sadness remained in his eyes. "Don't worry about me, Maggie. I just… wish we could have had more time with Shawn, you know? It doesn't seem right, him being gone so young."

Though the tears threatened again, she managed to hold her composure. She had done enough crying over the past few weeks. "I know. I'm never going to get over missing him. But…" her voice broke and she struggled for the words to continue, "He – he would want us to keep going. When I quit the force, I just – just couldn't imagine going back to work without him there. But up here… I can have a fresh start. So thank you, _Uncle_ Hunter." She put emphasis on the endearment and was rewarded when he enveloped her in another hug.

"Okay," he said, releasing her and heading for the doorway. "You get settled in. You'll be expected at work first thing in the morning, so make sure you get some rest tonight."

She frowned to herself, remembering her nightmare and doubting seriously whether she would ever get a good night's rest again. "See ya at dinner, Hunter."

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The night passed slowly for Magnolia, and she wound up getting very little sleep. But then, that was pretty much what she had expected, so when the final nightmare awoke her at 4 AM again, she decided to get up and begin her day. After a long, hot shower she agonized over what to wear, eager to make a good impression for her first day on the job. Finally she decided on a navy blue blazer and matching pencil skirt, with a jade green blouse underneath and a pair of beige pumps. Her hair she pulled back in a long French braid, and in her ears she wore small gold hoops.

She swept on some black mascara and her familiar pink lipstick and then she was ready to go. On her way to the station she stopped to buy some coffee, one of those extra decadent frozen concoctions to give her a nice sugar and caffeine buzz. She slurped it happily through her straw as she pulled into the parking lot, and then her nerves overtook her. Briefly she thought again about picking a random direction and driving away, but in the end she owed too much to Hunter to ditch on her first day. With a sigh she threw open her car door… and managed to smack it right into someone as they were walking by.

"Holy fucking hell!" The gruff cry took her by surprise and she hurried out of the car, coming face to face with the rather angry victim of her car door. The first thing she noticed was his electric blue eyes, though they were furious, they still sent a shock wave through her body that she certainly wasn't expecting. The next thing she noticed was the peculiar way he was clutching his shirt away from his body, and she only had a second to wonder about that before he started yelling again, "It is way too fucking early for this shit. I wanted to drink that coffee, woman, not wear it!"

Instantly she bristled at his tone, not entirely happy with being screamed at over what was clearly an accident. Though she'd be inhuman if she didn't feel bad about making a guy dump hot coffee on himself first thing in the morning. "First of all, don't call me 'woman'." She shot him a brief glare and then softened her tone, "Look, I'm sorry. This is- you know, my first day here. I just…" For a moment she was mesmerized again, noticing the way his wet shirt clung to a very well defined physique and the way his wavy hair fell in his eyes so perfectly. She was half tempted to reach up and brush it back before she realized she was doing more gawking than apologizing and forced herself to take a deep breath.

He shook his head, tossing his now empty coffee cup into the nearby trash with perfect aim before focusing his scorching gaze on her once again. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Without another word he turned and fled the parking lot, and she noted with a grimace that he was headed to the station and was, more than likely, one of her new coworkers. Finally she managed to close her car door and rested her forehead against it, thinking that the cut and run option was sounding more tempting by the minute. Before she could even look up, she felt a hand pat her gently on the back and she whipped herself around, half terrified the blue eyed man from before had come back to yell at her some more.

"Yeah, hi. I guess you must be the new detective. My name's Seth Rollins. Sorry about your run in there." He flashed her a crooked grin and she returned it, glad to see a friendly face. "Don't worry too much about him, that's pretty much how he treats anybody. Although I've never seen someone dump his coffee on him before." He chuckled and she felt her face flush.

"It's, um, well it's nice to meet you, Seth. I- it really was an accident." She rubbed the back of her neck, trying her best to pull herself together, and stuck out her right hand. "I'm Magnolia Michaels, but call me Maggie. I swear I'm not normally this awkward." They shook hands briefly and she noticed his warm brown eyes, still twinkling with amusement at what had transpired. His hair then drew her attention, it was mostly black but a quarter of it near the front had been rather uniquely bleached blonde. He wore it pulled back in a low ponytail.

"You got it, Maggie. Now I guess you'd better hurry inside. The chief gets pretty angry if you're late on your first day. Make sure you head to the third floor, that's where the detectives get to hang. I'm just a beat cop, so we'll see each other around."

She flashed a brilliant smile. "Thanks, Seth. I've gotta run." And run she did, suddenly resentful of the choice to wear high heels today. She made a beeline for the stairs and sprinted up the three flights, though she was in good shape she still had to pause and catch her breath at the top. The sight that greeted her made her feel immediately at home. Detectives are detectives apparently, no matter what corner of the country they happen to reside in. There were desks everywhere, and not a single one of them was orderly. Case files and sticky notes, well used coffee cups both full and empty, the occasional framed picture of a smiling spouse or a group of kids. She felt herself grinning and realized that she could, indeed, belong here.

Confidently she strode through the mess of desks and paperwork, knowing that the Chief's office would be at the end. Sure enough she found the door marked 'Chief Helmsley' and knocked briefly, still slurping her frozen coffee. "Come in." came the gruff bark from the other side, and Maggie opened up the door, ready to greet her Uncle. Instead, her eyes went straight for the other occupant of the room. Standing against the wall and pulling a sopping shirt over his head was the man from the parking lot. He dropped the shirt to the floor and began promptly drying his chest with Kleenex from Hunter's desk.

For a moment all Maggie could to was marvel at how good this guy looked without a shirt on. Unconsciously she licked her lips, before a cough from Hunter brought her crashing back to reality.

"Chief," she nodded, forcing her eyes to meet his and ignoring the other man in the room as her face flushed scarlet, "Reporting for duty." She grinned at her Uncle, and though he shot a confused glance between her and his other detective, he returned her grin.

"Alright, Detective Michaels. I'd like you to meet your new partner. This is Detective Dean Ambrose." He gestured, and she returned her gaze to her surly new partner, who, thankfully, was in the process of buttoning up a clean new shirt.

"Yeah, we've met already." He grumbled, and she found herself meeting his electric gaze with a heated one of her own. "Detective Michaels." He practically growled her name.

"Detective Ambrose." She returned with equal venom, challenging him to make an issue in front of the Chief.

To her surprise, he simply smirked at her, seemingly amused that she wasn't going to back down. "Yeah, I'm sure we'll work great together." He turned his attention to the Chief, "Look, this case you have me on is big, you sure you want to throw her into it?"

Hunter nodded, "This is exactly the kind of case Michaels is used too. I have utmost faith in her. Go get your files together so you can go over it all from the beginning." Ambrose nodded and swept out the door, tossing one last electrifying look at her before he left. Try as she might, she couldn't read the emotion in his eyes.

Hunter sighed once he left, rubbing savagely at his temples before rising to greet his niece with the usual bear hug. "So, you doing okay Maggie? Think you can handle it here?"

She bit her lip lightly, remembering her altercation in the parking lot. But, hey, if Ambrose was going to play rough, she could handle it. "I'm doing great. Ready to dive into a case."

"Good. Your new partner… well he doesn't have the best track record for playing well with others. But I figure if anyone can work with him, you can."

Maggie nodded. "It won't be a problem, Chief."

Hunter sighed and sat back down at his desk. "One more thing before we're done… this case you're working on. He's right, it's a big one. It's a little girl, Maggie. Raped and murdered. Found her in the park three days ago. Ambrose has been busting his ass looking for leads. I need to know that you're okay working this one. I said I have the utmost confidence in you, and I do, but if you're uncomfortable…"

She quickly shook her head. "I got this, Chief. No need to worry about me." With a gentle smile she headed for the door, "So, we done here?"

Hunter smiled back, "Yeah, though I feel like I'm throwing you to the wolves."

Maggie laughed, "No problem, Hunter. I am a wolf." With that, she left his office behind, and joined the jumble of detectives to find Ambrose. A little girl… and someone had to make sure she got justice.

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A/N: So, what do you think so far? Have I hooked you on this? There's going to be a lot of darker elements to this story, so be prepared.

Like my character? Hate her? Think I got someone's personality wrong? Or maybe you LOVE it? Please review and let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Annabelle Houston

Dean ran a hand compulsively through his dirty blonde hair as he exited the Chief's office and headed for his desk with perhaps just a bit more anger in his stride than usual. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed one of the unclaimed desks from the corner of the room and shoved it unceremoniously next to his before finally dropping into his chair. For a moment he simply pressed both hands to his head, already feeling the beginnings of a caffeine headache settling deviously in his temples.

"Oy, Ambrose!"

He cursed mildly under his breath before looking up, already knowing the jovial voice calling out to him belonged to fellow Detective Chris Jericho.

"Need something, Jericho?"

The blonde man grinned down at him as if laughing at his own private joke before setting a steaming mug of black coffee down on the desk. "I happened to bump into Rollins downstairs, and he mentioned you might be in need of some extra coffee this morning."

Try as he might to remain grumpy, the aroma of a fresh cup of coffee made his mouth water instantaneously. Dean reached gratefully for the mug, nodding his thanks to Jericho and making a mental note to speak to Rollins about his gossiping habit. "Yeah, yeah, had a run in with the new girl. I 'spose you guys have been laughing it up all morning?" he grumbled before taking a couple quick gulps from his mug. He allowed himself a small sigh of satisfaction, already feeling the pain in his head loosen up.

Jericho grinned with mirth, but he managed to stop himself from laughing. Ambrose may be thankful for the coffee, but his temper was known to flare up with the slightest provocation. "Oh yeah, but don't worry. Once she strode through here on her heels the talk became primarily about what a fox she is."

Dean smirked to himself, "Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention between the scalding hot coffee I was wearing and the Chief telling me I get stuck with her as my new partner."

Jericho's eyes widened and he choked a bit on his own sip of coffee. "Seriously? Poor girl…"

Before he had the chance to respond, he heard the Chief's office door open again and out sauntered miss Magnolia Michaels herself. She surveyed the room for a moment before her eyes settled on Ambrose and she headed in his direction. For the first time he allowed himself to really study his new partner and for an instant he was completely mesmerized. Her big amber eyes locked on his own and literally sent a jolt through his system.

He noticed suddenly how long her rich chestnut hair was, and how perfectly her navy blue skirt suit conformed to her lithe, shapely body. Though she wore heels, he'd guess her real height to be about 5'4, and he had a moment of admiration that she didn't get intimidated in a profession dominated so extensively by large, aggressive men. As she got closer and took a seat at the desk he had pulled over for her (which he was now wishing he had pushed just a little bit closer) he noticed the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks and felt something inside him warm just a little.

It took Dean a moment to realize he was staring, probably with his mouth agape, and indeed the only thing that really snapped him from his reverie was a rather pointed cough from Jericho.

"Ahem," The older detective began, extending his hand with a warm smile to his new colleague. "Chris Jericho, pleased to meet you. Anything you ever need around here, I'd be more than happy to help you out." His voice practically dripped with charm and Dean had to resist the urge to aim one of his boots at the man's shin.

His new partner, however, seemed not to notice the awkward moment or the obvious flirtation. "Magnolia Michaels, nice to meet you Detective Jericho."

"Oh please, call me Chris."

"Well, then, call me Maggie." She smiled and Dean struggled to not stare at her luscious pink lips.

Chris allowed their handshake to linger far too long for Dean's liking, and capped the whole thing off with a rather extravagant kiss to her knuckles. Finally the moment seemed to end and he stepped back from the desk.

"You finally remember you've got work you should be doing? Or do I need to sit here and watch you hit on my new partner some more?" Dean grumbled, wondering to himself why he was feeling so protective over some new detective. Sure, she was a woman, and… well, a very attractive woman at that, but he'd never had a reaction like this to someone before. And he certainly couldn't forget he'd shown his own temper to her earlier in the parking lot. He forced a smile at Jericho and watched the man walk away, giving himself a moment to snap back into work mode.

Of course, that was easily done once he returned his gaze to the case file in front of him. He had memorized every horrible detail over the past three days. With a sigh he pushed the file onto Maggie's desk and met her eyes, trying his best to convey the gravity of the situation. "Okay, Michaels, I'm gonna give you the run down before I let you open this up. There aren't a lot of murders worse than this one right here, and you'd better be damn sure you're as good as you think you are, because I want to catch this sicko _now,_ understand?"

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Maggie bristled slightly at his tone, not sure whether he meant to be insulting or just intense. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and looked solemnly down at the file before her. Despite her bravado, it was true that any case like this tended to hit her hard. Fortunately, she was good at turning her own anguish into determination, and she had never yet failed to catch a child murderer when she was on the case. "I got it, Ambrose. If I wasn't good enough, I wouldn't be here." She did her best to meet his heated blue gaze with an equal intensity.

He nodded and removed his hand from the file, allowing her to finally open it on her own. As she did, she noticed he turned his attention back to his cup of coffee, and felt rather grateful that he would give her a moment to process this without being scrutinized.

There is no preparing yourself for crime scene photos like this. Even the most hardened of detectives cannot escape the powerful emotions that arise when you come face to face with the horrors that truly depraved human souls can cause. The first page was littered with photographs. A beautiful brunette child beamed at her from the top of the page, her wide blue eyes full of innocence and raw potential. The name under the photo was handwritten, as were most of the notes, and she read it aloud.

"Annabelle Houston, thirteen years old…" she muttered to herself, and though her eyes watered she refused to let the tears fall. Not here. To his credit, Dean kept his eyes politely averted as he finished his coffee.

Her eyes moved to the second photo, and she felt the all too familiar sensation of her sadness being quietly replaced by rage. It was recognizably Annabelle Houston, but just barely. Her body had been found abandoned in a quiet stretch of national forest, literally tossed into the mud and left there. Her face was swollen and her entire body was covered in large, dark bruises. She was still wearing the yellow dress she had been abducted in, but it was torn and sickeningly streaked with blood.

Managing to find her voice at last, Maggie asked, "The blood on her dress… is it only hers, or does some belong to the attacker?" Her eyes never left the photograph.

Dean glanced back at her, seemingly impressed that she would immediately key in on that, "Unfortunately the blood appears to be all hers."

Maggie narrowed her eyes and studied the photograph further. Cause of death was strangulation, dark ligature marks marred the child's small neck. For just a quick flash she could perfectly envision the girl's final, agonizing moments… held down by someone so much stronger, clawing with desperation at the cord tightening around her throat and struggling for another breath that will never come.

Numbly Maggie realized she had been clenching her fists on the desk, and uncurled her hands to reveal deep crescent grooves. With a heavy hearted sigh she rubbed them angrily on her skirt and turned back to her partner. "Any DNA evidence at all? Under the fingernails maybe?"

Dean nodded, "We found skin cells beneath her fingernails. The girl fought him as hard as she could. No DNA match in the database."

"Shit." Maggie continued to flip through the file, finding herself somewhat endeared by the sight of Dean's sprawling, handwritten notes. He had already explored the very avenues she herself would have started with. She found herself forming a grudging admiration for the gruff detective. At least he knew what he was doing. "So you interviewed the family, no leads there? Suspicious relatives, neighbors, anybody?"

He shook his head sadly. "Parents don't seem the type to have any involvement. They're torn to pieces over this… couldn't remember seeing anything suspicious, can't think of anybody who would want to do their daughter harm." He shifted his gaze to the window and allowed his mind to wander back to those interviews and re-digest key moments. "She was snatched right out of the park three blocks from her house. Parents let her walk over there with a friend from school…" he struggled a bit with his memory before remembering her name, "…Hannah Dawson."

Maggie glanced back up with interest. "What does the friend remember?"

"Not much. One minute she was walking with her best friend near the back of the park, and the next minute she was out cold. When she woke up she had a nasty concussion and Annabelle was nowhere to be found. Hospital report says she was hit with a blunt object of some kind." He shook his head with anger and finally met her eyes again. She almost shuddered at the raw emotion in his gaze. "Nobody else in the park saw anything."

She took a deep breath and got a hold of herself, turning the situation over in her mind. "Okay, Ambrose…" she began, giving the file a final flip through before she was sure she had memorized everything important. "So we've got a thirteen year old victim, who was sexually assaulted before she was strangled to death… and no suspects whatsoever?"

"That's right, Michaels. Where do you suggest we go from here?" He pulled the file back to his desk and flipped through it angrily himself.

Maggie leaned back in her chair, genuinely surprised that he was willing to trust her opinion enough to ask for it. "Well, I suppose you searched the area around the park for sex offenders? Sent officers door to door asking if anyone saw anything?"

Ambrose nodded impatiently and ran a hand through his unruly dirty blonde hair. "Done and done. Nada."

She nodded, going through the facts again in her mind, "How about the area near where she was found? The report says it was a small chunk of national forest, did you speak to nearby property owners? It's possible our psycho snatched her from town but dumped the body closer to wherever he calls home."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Well now, that's a damn good idea." He coughed as if noticing he had complimented her and gruffly continued, "I'll pull up a map and grab us some addresses to investigate. Go let the Chief know we'll be spending our day out in the boonies. We could get a good lead out there, so I'm not going to trust this to anyone else." He turned his electric blue eyes to look her up and down once again. "Tell me you've got different shoes to wear."

She felt her face flush in embarrassment, and had to look away from his cocky smirk to regain her composure. "I can handle it. I've certainly faced worse challenges than walking down a dirt driveway in heels." Quickly she pushed herself back from the desk and rose to her feet, and when her amber eyes met his once more she showed him she could be just as cocky as he was. "Don't fret yourself over me, Ambrose. Worry more about keeping your coffee in your cup instead of all over your shirt."

She couldn't help but let out a light giggle as his face contorted in indignation, and before he could come up with a suitably clever reply she had turned on her heel and set off to let the Chief know their plans.

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Hunter watched silently from his office window as his niece climbed in the passenger seat of Dean Ambrose's Dodge Challenger and drove away. For what was certainly not the first time that day, he wondered if he had done the right thing partnering them together. Individually, they were definitely the best homicide detectives he had, but… with everything Maggie had been through… he was beginning to doubt his decision to pair her with someone who had such a reputation for being insensitive.

With a sigh of resignation he stepped away from the window and sat heavily at his desk. He ran his hands over his short buzzed hair and resumed massaging his temples. He would have to trust that Maggie was strong enough to handle her new partner. Deep down he was truly sure that she was, but after being absent from her life for so many years he couldn't help but feel extra protective. So for now, he would keep a close eye on them. It'd be a cold day in hell before he let someone hurt his niece when she was already so vulnerable.

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Dean rode with the windows down, and lit himself a cigarette as they pulled out of the station parking lot. He couldn't help but realize that this was literally the first time he had a woman in his car without the intention of taking her home for a one night stand. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, he exhaled slowly and tuned the radio to the local rock station, eager for some noise to fill the silence. Still he couldn't get over the boldness of this woman.

He tended to treat everyone with the same general attitude, and it mostly boiled down to 'don't fuck with me, or you'll regret it.' His cockiness had been well earned. He had fought his whole life, from his broken family in the slums in Cincinnati to police academy. For years he proved himself time and time again to be the best, until finally he had worked his way to the detective job he had always wanted. Now he did his best to bring justice to the world, one case at a time, and he sure as hell didn't take shit from anybody anymore.

Stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, his mind wandered again to the woman sitting next to him. He spared a quick glance in her direction, marveling again at her raw beauty. She just looked way too naïve to be a homicide detective. Then again, she had risen above and beyond every challenge he had presented her with today. Hell, after the way he'd unleashed his temper the first moment they met he wouldn't have blamed her if she'd demanded a different partner.

Somehow, he believed she did have the guts to handle this case. Maybe even the guts to handle being around _him_ for an extended period of time. He smirked at that thought, remembering that he had never had a partnership last more than four months. Yet as he studied Magnolia, he could sense that she was so much more beneath the surface than he had ever dealt with before. This girl had secrets… and an inner strength that may even surpass his own.

As if she was knew what he was thinking, Maggie turned and fixed him with a curious gaze, her bright eyes twinkling with some hidden thought.

"Yes, Michaels?" He grumbled, slightly uncomfortable at being the focus of her rapt attention.

Her lips quirked suddenly into an amused smile and she returned to looking out the windshield. "Just wasn't sure if you realized this is our exit."

"Fuck!" At the last minute Dean managed to deftly swerve the car onto the exit ramp, quickly lowering his speed. As he got the car back under control and pulled onto the smaller road that would lead to their first destination, she literally _giggled_ at him.

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A/N: Thanks for sticking with me, guys! Please take the time to review and tell me what you think! Too dark? Too much comedy? Have I not piqued your interest yet? Let me know! 3


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Questions without Answers

Gravel crunched and flew beneath the tires as Dean swung his car neatly off the road onto a narrow driveway. Maggie leaned forward in her seat, studying the scenery intently and trying to envision if this was the kind of place their psycho would live. She involuntarily shuddered as a flood of her own memories came rushing back to her. Suddenly she was eleven again, shaking in the back of a police cruiser as it slowly pulled away from the ramshackle house that had been her own personal hell.

"You okay?" Dean asked sharply, slowing the car down and snapping her firmly back into reality.

"Of course," she muttered, pushing those memories firmly away, "just trying to prepare myself."

He nodded, seeming to accept her answer. "Keep your eyes and ears open out here. Too many detectives miss good leads because they're not payin' enough attention." The trees lining the driveway suddenly cleared, and they found themselves pulling up to an old farm house. The white paint on the walls was peeling, but there was a cheery flower garden out front and it gave the place a very homey feel. To the right of the house was a large red barn, and a host of farm animals roamed the grassy fields, grazing contentedly. One jersey cow raised its head to call out a loud moo as they drove by.

Two cars were parked out front: one large red pickup truck and a shiny silver jaguar. Dean parked his own car smoothly behind them and killed the engine. He reached over her suddenly to open the glove box and pull out a battered looking notebook with a pen jammed into the spiral binding. "You wanna be good cop or bad cop today?" His lips stretched into an amused smirk as he continued, "I'm partial to bad cop myself, but, my being such a gentleman and all, I'll let you choose."

Maggie couldn't help but smile back, thinking that she had never before met someone with anywhere near the swagger of her new partner. "I'll play good cop. And-" she reached her hand out to snatch the notebook from his grasp, nearly jumping in surprise as their fingers brushed and it was as if an electric current surged between them. "-I'll take notes. No offense, but I've seen your handwriting and it gives me a bit of a headache."

"Yeah, whatever. Book keeping's not quite my style anyway." And with that, he slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses and smoothly exited the car. She followed suit with slightly less grace, crossing her legs to avoid flashing her panties at the cows. "Let's go, Michaels." He called after her impatiently, already making his way to the door, and she hurried to catch up. Once more she turned the case over in her mind, trying to cement the questions that she didn't want to forget to ask.

Dean knocked loudly and stood back with his arms crossed as she stood to his left, flipping the notebook rapidly to find a blank page. At the sound of the door opening she glanced up, and the man at the door nearly made her forget her game plan altogether.

Calling him massive would be putting it mildly. He towered over her, and the breadth of him was more than a little intimidating. Not an inch of his body appeared to be anything but tense, coiled muscle. His light hair was closely buzzed and his eyes were a cold blue, and abruptly she realized that this could very well be their killer standing before them. She cleared her throat to hide her moment of shock and quickly nodded a greeting, "Good morning, my name is Detective Michaels and this is Detective Ambrose." Quickly they flashed their badges and Dean nodded, his face a cool mask of composure as she continued, "We'd like to ask you a few questions regarding a recent murder."

The man behind the door stared down at her, his eyes widening slightly. When he spoke, his voice had a surprising southern twang to it. "I really don't have time for this right now-" he began, but was cut off abruptly by Dean.

"I think you can make time, big guy." His voice was low and gravely, and he leaned one muscular arm casually against the door jamb. Clearly he wasn't the type to be easily intimidated.

Before either man had the chance to do more than glare menacingly at the other, someone from within the house called out in a slightly peevish voice, "Go ahead and let them in, Brock. I'll answer whatever questions they have."

Just like that, the man named Brock's demeanor abruptly changed and he stood back from the doorway, allowing Dean and herself to enter the house. Immediately to the left was a cozy kitchen, and seated at the table with a cup of coffee and a laptop was a middle aged man, soft around the middle with a balding head of brunette hair. He rose as they entered and stretched out his hand, which Maggie promptly shook. The man spoke again, his voice full of careful eloquence, "Good morning, Detectives. My name is Paul Heyman."

Dean nodded at him but remained standing in the corner of the room as Maggie and Paul took a seat at the kitchen table. Brock, however, turned on his heel and stalked out of the house altogether.

"Are you the property owner, Mr. Heyman?" Maggie asked first, nonchalantly setting her pen to the blank page in her notebook to record his answer.

Paul squirmed, mildly uncomfortable, but answered in the affirmative, "Yes, this is my land. I grew up out here. Nowadays I prefer city life," he chuckled wryly, "owning a farm was never my idea of success."

Maggie made a couple of notes and continued, as Dean ambled around the kitchen. "The man who greeted us at the door, is he a relation…?"

Paul barked out a laugh at this, "Well, as I mentioned, I'm not overly fond of this place. The man you met is my hired help, Brock Lesnar. I allow him to live here, and in exchange he does all the farm work. He's quite the beast, as you could clearly see…" as if realizing that fact may have sparked their interest he hurriedly added, "but he's very simple. The only things I've really seen him mad about are the garden and the cows."

Maggie nodded, "I see, Mr. Heyman. And how long have you known Brock Lesnar?"

The older man leaned back in his chair, pondering his answer. "Well, I hired him about three years back. One of the best decisions I ever made. I have an apartment in the city, you see, and now I rarely have to trouble myself with this place."

Dean stepped a little closer to the table and spoke up, pulling his sunglasses off and fixing the man with a hard stare, "You trust this Lesnar guy? Seems like if he's out here on his own most of the time you'd hardly know him."

Paul cowed a bit under Dean's harsh gaze but spoke quickly and precisely, "As I said, he's a simple guy. He was down a bit on his luck when I met him… apparently he was some college football star before an injury put him out of the game. To answer your question, yes, I trust him."

Dean frowned but accepted his answer, and Maggie scribbled a few more notes down before continuing her line of questions, "Three days ago a body was discovered in the nearby forest, Mr. Heyman. Can you tell me your whereabouts on the night of September 23rd?"

"Of course, of course. I was in town, actually. I, erm-" for the first time he appeared to stumble slightly over his words and Maggie shot him a questioning look, beckoning for him to continue, "Well, I happened to be entertaining a young woman at the time." His face flushed slightly.

"We'll need the name of the woman you were with." Dean spoke up from the corner of the room and Paul glanced back at him, seemingly embarrassed.

"Certainly, Detective Ambrose. It's just… well I met this young lady through an agency, you see. Just, you know, looking for a bit of companionship." Having said his piece he looked demurely back at Maggie and she resisted the temptation to smirk at his choice of words.

"An escort?" she asked.

"A hooker?" Dean spoke up at the same time, and they shared an amused glance between them.

Paul spluttered slightly, "An _escort_, yes, Detectives. I can give you the name of the agency and the girl. I'm sure they keep records." He gave Maggie the appropriate information and as she wrote it down Dean continued the questions.

"So maybe you have an alibi, but I s'pose it's safe to assume Lesnar was out here alone that night?"

Paul's brow wrinkled in doubt and he took a large drink of coffee before answering, "I would say so. Truthfully, Brock is out here alone nearly every night. I only stay out here for a few days each month."

Maggie and Dean exchanged a suspicious glance before she moved on to the next question.

"Can you tell me about your neighbors, Mr. Heyman?"

He relaxed slightly, seemingly grateful that he was no longer the direct subject of their questions. "Well, I'm afraid I don't know them very well. And Brock is very much a 'keeps to himself' kind of guy. The only one I've had very much contact with is an older woman who has owned her property since I was a child. Judith Keats. She owns a large chunk of land just past mine. She's been living by herself since her children grew up and flew the coop."

Maggie wrote the name down. "Anybody else you'd like to mention? Have you ever had reason to be suspicious, or uncomfortable about any of your neighbors? The slightest bit of information could wind up being very important in this case."

Paul considered her words and thought carefully for a moment before answering, "Well as I said, I haven't had much contact with my neighbors. Nobody stands out in my mind as being suspicious in the slightest." He drummed the fingers of one hand nervously against his kitchen table, "You must keep in mind that people usually choose to live so rurally for a reason. Nobody out here is really the 'bake cookies and bring them to the neighbors' type. Mrs. Keats has lived here longer than anyone else that I'm aware of, so if anyone is going to have the answers you're looking for, it would likely be her."

Maggie sighed and nodded her understanding. With a deft flick of her wrist she flipped the notebook closed and jammed the pen back into the binding. Smoothly she pushed her chair back and rose from the table. "I'd like to thank you for taking the time to help our investigation, Mr. Heyman."

Paul smiled up at her, obviously grateful that the interview had ended. "Of course, Detectives. I'll help you in any way that I can."

Dean dug out his wallet and retrieved a card, placing it neatly on the table in front of the older man. "Good to hear. Make sure you give me a call on that number, anytime, if you think of anything new to tell us."

Paul nodded and studied the card for a moment before rising from the table himself. "I'll be sure to do that." Gradually they returned to the front door and said polite goodbyes. "Good luck with your investigation, Detective Ambrose, Detective Michaels."

With that, the door to the small house closed and Maggie and Dean returned to his vehicle, neither of them speaking up until the doors were closed and the engine roared back to life.

Maggie scanned her sparse notes from the interview and spoke first, "Not quite sure what to think of that pair. Lesnar has more than enough strength to easily be our murderer, but… Heyman seemed to be truthful when he said he was pretty harmless. Hopefully he'd have some inkling if the man working for him for three years had homicidal urges."

Dean frowned before replying, "Unless Heyman is covering for him. That guy was way too smooth for my liking."

Maggie nodded slowly, "Well we're definitely not writing them off yet. People normally act a bit more shaken to find two homicide detectives at their door." She frowned, "He didn't once ask about the victim."

"I'll call about his alibi when we get back to the station. We'll need to run a thorough background check on the both of them."

Maggie nodded and resumed studying her notes. "Is Judith Keats on our list of interviews today?"

Dean nodded the affirmative as he pulled his car back onto the main road from the smaller gravel driveway. "She's got the last property in line, just at the edge of the radius I searched."

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The next two stops passed uneventfully and they didn't manage to pry up any new information. Heyman had been right when he told them most of the people out here kept to themselves. As they pulled slowly down the driveway to the final property, Maggie allowed her hope to rekindle. If anyone had some answers for them, it seemed the most likely person was going to be Mrs. Judith Keats.

Dean parked his challenger behind a dusty old Cutlass Supreme and they studied the property from the car for a moment. This was no farm, just a neat, small house nestled in the middle of the woods. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the pine trees and lit the small clearing with a hazy golden glow. The front porch held a host of potted and hanging plants, and a tiny old woman eyed them from an ancient looking rocking chair, a paperback novel propped open on her lap.

Maggie hopped out first and flashed her badge quickly. "Good afternoon, ma'am. My name is Detective Michaels, with the Spokane P.D." Dean climbed out after her and she added, "This is my partner, Detective Ambrose. We'd like to ask you some questions regarding a recent murder."

At this the woman's misty grey eyes shot wide open, and she folded her book closed and set it aside. "Oh dear. Come on up, Detectives. You can call me Judy."

Together they ambled slowly up the steps to her porch, the old wood creaking noisily beneath their footfalls. Before they had the opportunity to ask any questions, the old woman spoke again.

"Is it… it's not anyone I- that I know, is it?" Her eyes were watery as she asked, and Maggie realized she was probably thinking anxiously of her grown children.

Dean answered immediately, "That's unlikely, Mrs. Keats. The body was discovered in a stretch of forest near here. The victim was a young girl from the city."

Judy visibly relaxed, but a tear slipped from her eyes nonetheless and she sadly brushed it away. "That's horrible…" she began before getting a hold of herself.

To Maggie's surprise, Dean appeared to relax himself and took a graceful seat on the front steps, shaking a cigarette from his near empty pack and lighting it up. He took a long drag and exhaled slowly, and when he spoke again his voice was almost gentle. "We'd like to ask you your whereabouts for the night of September 23rd."

Rocking slowly in her chair, Judy thought a moment before answering, "I was home alone, as I usually am. I had a long conversation over the phone with my daughter that night." She smiled with some faraway thought, "My grandson left for college this month, clear across the country, you see, and my daughter was feeling a bit lonely."

Maggie flipped open her notebook, "May I ask for your daughter's name and number, Judy?"

The old woman complied and she carefully scribbled down the information before asking the next question. "Could you tell me a bit about your neighbors? We spoke to a Mr. Heyman earlier and he informed us that you have lived out here for many years."

Judy nodded, her eyes clouding with thought as she answered, "Indeed. Little Paul was just a boy when his parents bought the farm house. He moved away the moment he turned eighteen, but since he inherited the farm we've kept in contact. Did you meet Brock?"

Maggie nodded, "We did. Have either of them ever given you reason to be suspicious or uncomfortable?"

Quickly Judy shook her head, "Not them, no. Brock may come across a bit angry at first, but I believe he's still grieving for the way his life turned out. Poor man was headed for the NFL, you know, before he injured his knee."

Maggie frowned a bit at her choice of wording, "You said 'not them', have you ever had reason to doubt any of your other neighbors?"

The old woman pursed her lips as a gentle breeze lifted her wispy white hair and she rocked slowly in her chair. Dean studied her carefully. When she finally spoke again, she seemed a bit uncomfortable with her answer, "I would say not. I can't imagine any of my neighbors harming a little girl." Somehow she sounded as if she didn't believe her own words, and Dean spoke up with agitation.

"This little girl wasn't just _harmed_, Mrs. Keats. She was snatched from a park, brutally assaulted, raped and murdered. Some asshole dumped her body less than two miles from your property. If you know _anything_ you think might be important, you need to let us know now so we can lock this sicko up." His harsh words appeared to have the desired effect, as the old woman rose from her chair, visibly rattled.

"I- I told you I don't know anything, Detectives, and I told you the truth. Now if you have no further questions, I'd like to retire for the evening." Her voice was shaky, and the expression in her eyes spoke volumes. Clearly there was something she wasn't telling them.

Maggie sighed in frustration and Dean roughly stubbed out his cigarette, standing up and facing the woman one last time. He fixed her with an earnest, if slightly imposing stare and once more dug a card out of his wallet. He pressed it firmly into her hand and met her eyes, "Listen to me, Mrs. Keats. If you think of anything at all that we should know, give me a call at this number. Any time, day or night. Believe me when I tell you that we are dealing with a psychopath. If we can't stop him soon enough, the next victim might be one of your grandchildren."

Judy gasped in horror at his words and stared with desperation at the small card in her hand. When she glanced back up at him, her eyes were flooded with tears and lost again in some faraway thought. Her lips, however, were pursed tightly and when she spoke again her voice was curt and dismissive. "Goodbye, Detectives." Promptly she went inside, clutching her novel and Dean's card tightly to her chest, and closed the door firmly behind her. There was nothing left for them to do but return to the car and head back to the station.

"Shit!" Dean cursed angrily the moment he had slammed his car door, and she quickly buckled her seat belt as he revved the engine and pulled away from the sad, small house. Maggie bit her lip and pondered over their interaction with Judith Keats, wondering what on earth the woman could know that she wouldn't disclose to them. Her gut firmly protested that they were leaving without any answers, and that the woman in the house had the ones they needed.

"Ambrose…" she began, but was cut off abruptly as the police scanner in the car crackled to life.

"Dispatch to car 38, dispatch to car 38."

Dean stopped the car in the middle of the driveway and grabbed for his handset. "This is car 38." He growled.

"We've got a 187, four miles from your location. You were requested specifically by the Officers on call."

Maggie's eyes widened. 187 was code for homicide, and if they were being requested on location there was a sickening likelihood that this was related to their own case. Dean angrily slapped the steering wheel as dispatch gave the address and he peeled out in the gravel, his car shooting out with a roar back onto the main road.

Maggie felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach and quickly seized the police flasher, sticking it to the roof of the car just as Dean flipped the sirens on and they sped madly toward the murder scene.

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A/N: I want to give a big heartfelt thank you to those who have reviewed so far! It means a lot to me, and helps keep me motivated. Lots of exposition in this chapter, and it wound up being the longest one yet. The next chapter will see the debut of Roman Reigns, as well as some more Seth Rollins. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Innocence Lost

Dean's heart hammered in his chest as they approached the flashing lights and yellow tape at the crime scene. His blood boiled through his veins, hot with molten fury that the killer could have struck again so quickly. In the back of his mind loomed the dull, desperate feeling of failure. They hadn't caught him yet… hadn't been fast enough to prevent the loss of another young life.

He spared a glance to the woman on his left, who was hurriedly pulling on a pair of white latex gloves. Without a word Maggie handed a pair to him as well, and he nodded a brief thanks as they half jogged toward the officers on scene.

Another body dumped in the woods, just off the access road that winded its way through the forest. Another child robbed of life and thrown in the dirt. The sun was falling steadily lower in the sky, and the remaining light provided little more than a dusty, ghoulish orange glow.

At the barrier of crime scene tape they were greeted by one of the few men Dean considered a friend, an impressive figure whose muscles threatened to burst through his black officer's uniform. His long black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, but as it always did on days as stressful as this one it was beginning to fall free and a few strands hung loose to frame his somber face. Roman Reigns had come to the force shortly after Dean became a detective, and though they worked on different levels they were bonded by the same fierce need for justice.

"Hey Dean," he greeted in his low, rumbling voice as they approached, quickly lifting the yellow tape for the two detectives to pass under. Dean's hands shook with barely restrained rage as he tugged on his white gloves.

"Roman," he nodded, turning his heated blue gaze on the man, "this is my new partner, Detective Michaels."

He inclined his head briefly to the chestnut haired beauty as her amber eyes scanned the tree line, filled with despair and grim anticipation. "Call me Maggie…" she mumbled distractedly as she numbly stepped forward, approaching the low ditch that ran along the side of the access road.

Roman looked after her with concern, she certainly didn't look the type to be able to handle a crime scene like this, but he turned his attention back to his friend when the man spoke sharply, "Has forensic been here yet?"

Roman shook his head hurriedly, a few more strands falling free of his ponytail. He knew very well how much Dean hated other people crawling over his crime scenes before he had the chance to study them. "Just me and Seth. We got the call about an hour ago, a couple on a hike spotted the body and called it in."

He gestured to where his partner stood, speaking quietly with a visibly distressed man who held his sobbing girlfriend closely. "It became pretty clear once we got here that this was related to your case. It's damn near identical." He shrugged his big shoulders, and it was obvious how much this second death had distressed him. "Seth is better at keeping his cool than me, so he's taking the statements while I stand guard." He snorted with contempt, his low voice thick with anger, "As if anybody would want a peek at a scene like this."

Dean nodded his understanding and without another word he followed his partner to the body. Maggie stood transfixed at the edge of the ditch, half her mind numb with horror as the other half carefully scrutinized the scene before her. Viewing it in the raw was so much more visceral than seeing a snapshot in a case file, and her body trembled slightly as she began taking careful note of the details.

What was once a beautiful young girl had become just a hollow shell, the trauma to her body the only testament to the agony that had been her final hours. Her short blonde hair had been trimmed in a neat bob, but now it was sticky with mud and blood, and just like their first victim her body was riddled with bruises and lacerations. She wore only a purple t-shirt, which itself had been viscously ripped so much that it was little more than shreds.

Dimly she became aware of Dean standing next to her, and as she glanced at him she could see the intensity and the fury in his eyes as he stared down into the ditch. Swallowing the lump in her suddenly dry throat Maggie furiously kicked off her heels and climbed down to the body, unmindful of the dirt and sharp rocks beneath her bare feet.

She was careful not to disturb anything, knowing all too well how important it was to preserve the integrity of a crime scene. With one gloved finger she gingerly lifted a lock of limp hair from the girl's pale neck, revealing the same dark ligature marks they had observed on the first body. With an angry curse she heard Dean climb down after her, and when he knelt down he was close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. She found it oddly comforting, and her frantically racing heart began to calm down.

"Ambrose, I- I don't think there's any doubt this was the same guy." She spoke, her voice laced liberally with equal parts frustration and depression.

"The same monster," he growled. With a frown he leaned in closer to meticulously study the thin purple bruise that marked the cause of death. "I've never seen ligature marks like this before Annabelle." His gravelly voice broke slightly when he spoke the first victim's name and in a moment of tenderness Maggie rested a gloved hand on his shoulder. She felt his muscles tense briefly, but Dean didn't shrug her away. "He strangled her with something… thinner and tougher than rope." With a careful hand he gently ran a finger along the girl's neck, "No abrasion, so nothing rough. No cuts, so nothing fine like piano wire."

She observed the dark scowl on his face, and they shared a quiet moment of grief and guilt as their minds worked to find an answer to this puzzle. Maggie was desperate for anything, any clue that would give them a place to start. They were dealing with a serial killer now, and it had suddenly become a race to catch him before he could strike again. It was their responsibility to bring him down, so every victim felt like a knife twisting in the heart.

Forcing herself to continue, Maggie slowly scrutinized the rest of the body, starting with the toes and working her way up. Though she tried to restrain her reactions, she couldn't help but visibly wince as she observed the dark, dried blood streaking the girl's thin legs. Her amber gaze swept over the tattered t-shirt, her eyes flooding with unshed tears when she noticed that it was patterned with tiny pink roses. Massive dark bruises covered her arms where large hands had held her down.

Abruptly Maggie did a double take, staring at something strange on the victim's right palm. It took her a moment to get over the shock of having actually discovered a new piece of evidence. "Ambrose!" She cried, oh so carefully lifting the girl's fist and uncurling her stiffening fingers to get a closer look at the clue she had almost missed. Something green coated her small palm, and as she lightly touched her gloved thumb to the stain she observed that it was slightly sticky still.

As she looked up him, Dean's electric blue eyes sparkled with sudden shock. She stumbled over her next words, her voice shaking with a crazy kind of excitement that only a fellow detective could understand. "This is… w-we need to know what this is. I- I need a q tip and an evidence bag!"

Dean nodded, climbing carefully out of the ditch, "Roman!" he bellowed, and the big man jogged over to them. "We found something…" he began, stripping his gloves off with haste and running a hand through his tumbled blonde hair, suddenly revitalized by cautious hope. "I need to grab the evidence kit from my car, stay here with Maggie."

He wasn't about to leave her alone in the ditch with the body, not as the thick forest darkened steadily around them. In his excitement he didn't even realize it was the first time he hadn't referred to her by her last name.

Roman stood obligingly over the ditch as Dean made a hectic dash for his car to retrieve the black duffel bag that held his evidence kit. He gave a small smile to Maggie, still crouched in the ditch and tenderly holding the girl's hand up off of the dirt. "Good job, girl." He spoke softly, his pale grey eyes shining as he offered encouragement to the new detective.

Seth, who had by now finished taking statements from the witnesses, quickly bounded over to find out what the excitement was about. His warm brown eyes filled with compassion as he looked down into the ditch, and though his heart squeezed painfully again to see the tiny body he was relieved to see that at least they had found a new clue. Hopefully they would be once step closer to finding the psycho who had brutally murdered two children. "You okay, Maggie?" he called out softly, knowing that if their situations were reversed he'd be a frantic mess.

Maggie smiled up reassuringly, clinging to her desperate hope that this was just what they needed to give them a solid lead. She noticed vaguely that her body was shaking, and wondered whether it was the rush of adrenaline or merely the encroaching cold of the autumn night. "I'm fine, guys, thanks." She heard the sound of rapid footfalls above her as Dean returned, "I'll be a lot better once I can crawl out of this ditch."

Gracefully Dean climbed down to kneel beside her once more and passed over a long q tip. With her free hand Maggie carefully rolled it in the strange substance, soaking up as much as she could so that they would stand a chance at figuring out what it was. He held the evidence bag open for her as she dropped the q tip inside, and she let out a small sigh of relief. Slowly she rose to her feet, and when her cramped muscles protested and she stumbled Dean grabbed her gently by the arm, allowing her to regain her balance. The day had been a long one, and mentally they were both exhausted.

He passed the evidence bag to Seth and then climbed up, reaching a hand down to help Maggie. She was absurdly grateful, suddenly feeling the pain of her tender bare feet on the rocky ground. As he pulled her up she relished the feeling of his large, calloused hand enveloping her own, and when he released her she felt her palm still tingling from the contact. Vividly her face flushed crimson, but with the growing darkness she hoped no one would notice.

"That needs to get to the lab ASAP." She spoke, nodding to the tiny piece of evidence in Seth's grasp.

He nodded his understanding, "We'll take it for you. We'll be headed there anyway as soon as the forensic team gets here." Seth patted her gently on the back, somehow missing the suspicious glare Dean sent his way at the action. "You look like you need a soft bed."

"Thank you." Maggie smiled with as much warmth as she could muster after the heightened emotion of the crime scene. She retrieved her heels and struggled slightly to slip one on, wavering unsteadily on her abused feet.

With concern in his soft blue eyes, Dean once again reached out to steady her as she pulled her shoes back on. He surprised himself with the action, not quite sure at what point in the day he had warmed up so much to Miss Magnolia Michaels. He allowed her to lean against him for a moment, and forgot his own tiredness as the warmth from her touch spread throughout his body. She laughed, and it was like sweet music, brightening his hellish day with the pure, clear sound.

"You were right about the shoes, Dean. Next time I'll make sure I have a backup pair."

He smirked and had the sudden, ridiculous urge to pick her up off her feet and carry her to the car, but then she was standing on her own and he reluctantly released her. Immediately he regretted the loss of contact, and firmly shook his head to clear his mind. He didn't know why he was having such strong feelings for his new partner, and the last thing he wanted to do was fuck up a good partnership by trying to get her in bed. Yet as she began the walk back to his car he stared after her for a moment, doubting that his feelings were really just simple lust.

Roman caught the exchange between them, and when Maggie had passed out of hearing range he grinned at Dean, elbowing the slightly taller man good naturedly. "Well, well, I'll be damned if Mr. Hard Ass Detective doesn't have a crush on his pretty new partner." He and Seth chuckled as Dean's eyes sparked in irritation.

"Watch yourself, Reigns." He snapped as they began heading back toward the vehicles, "Don't think I haven't beat the hell out of friends before for talking shit."

Seth stopped abruptly and feigned shock, his brown eyes opening wide, "Wait, you expect us to believe we're not your first friends?"

At that, Roman and Seth erupted in laughter and Dean stalked away. "Blow me!" He called over his shoulder as he climbed back into his black Challenger. He was still cursing mildly under his breath and Maggie arched an eyebrow at him, but before she could say anything he loudly revved the engine and sped away.

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When they finally arrived back at the station it was full dark, only the barest sliver of a crescent moon lighting the sky. The ride had been silent, but oddly enough it didn't feel uncomfortable. Dean chain smoked the whole way, craving nicotine to calm his emotions after such a roller coaster of a day. Maggie, meanwhile, rested her head against her seat belt and lost herself to her own thoughts. She nearly dozed off once or twice.

Dean pulled smoothly into his parking spot and they hopped out. They were both eager for this day to just end, but there would be no time for rest until they had updated Hunter. With a sigh Maggie turned to her partner and offered a smile, "Listen, if you want to call it a night I can handle talking to the Chief."

"You've got to be kidding me." He began, shaking his head at her with an amused smirk on his face. "We started this day together and that's how we'll end it. That's what 'partners' means, Mags." She blushed and smiled at the nickname, suddenly feeling warm despite the chilly night air.

Encouraged by her smile, Dean continued in a comically low voice, glancing theatrically around the parking lot as if he was looking for eavesdroppers, "Besides, they say after nightfall the Chief turns into a fearsome beast and devours any cop that looks at him funny. I can't leave you to face that all alone." He puffed his chest out heroically and Maggie giggled despite herself, clinging to his car for support as she lost her balance in laughter.

"Okay, okay…" she said as she caught her breath again, "Point taken. We go together."

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Hunter was making his way through a large stack of overdue paperwork, his impatience evident on his face as he waited for his niece to return. As the minutes and hours ticked by he had been plagued by doubt, his creative imagination supplying scenarios in which his niece was incessantly harassed by Ambrose, hurt by Ambrose, or, in the worst case scenario, _seduced_ by Ambrose. And it would be all his fault, for sticking them together in the first place.

He certainly hadn't expected that she would be forced to confront another murder on her first day on the job. His temples throbbed and he was convinced he had screwed up royally. She had trusted him enough to move away from everything she knew and take a job in his department, and he had thrown her into the worse kind of situation imaginable. Granted, if she wasn't his niece and he was looking at this from a purely business standpoint, Maggie truly was the best detective for the case. Unfortunately, that did nothing to relieve the guilt gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

So it was with enormous relief and slight trepidation that he lurched from his chair and to the window at the sound of Ambrose's ridiculously loud muscle car. He watched with concern as Maggie climbed out, and noticed with surprise that though she looked exhausted, she also looked okay. With a grateful sigh he settled again at his desk and waited for them, hurriedly trying to make himself look busy, as if he hadn't spent the entire day fretting over her and shuffling papers around.

When the knock finally arrived at his office door he called out in his usual gruff voice, "Come in."

Maggie walked in first, and he frowned at how very sad her amber eyes looked. Yet she had a small smile on her face, and when Ambrose filed in after her they remained standing close to each other. Hunter narrowed his eyes in suspicion, remembering that just this morning they had been glaring daggers at one another.

"Chief," Maggie began, and though Hunter wanted nothing more than to give her a hug and tell her he was so sorry for sending her out there, he did his best to remain professional. Her voice was strong as she went on, "Roman and Seth were right in their suspicions. It looks like we have a serial killer on our hands."

Hunter frowned, his forehead wrinkling in thought. "We'll need an identity for our new victim. I'll ask Jericho to search the missing persons database and find us potential matches… Tell me we have some good news. Did you two find any leads in your investigation today?"

Dean frowned as he spoke up, "Nothing concrete. My gut tells me there's something going on out there that the neighbors weren't being completely honest about… and with a second body found in the same vicinity I'd say it's increasingly likely that our killer's home is in the area."

Hunter nodded, absorbing the new information. Despite his misgivings about Dean's character, he had absolute faith in the man as a detective.

Maggie spoke up again next, "We found one piece of unique evidence on the second body, a green liquid on the girl's palm. Hopefully it'll give us a lead, or at least a better idea of what we're dealing with. It's being taken to the lab for analysis."

Hunter's eyes widened, "Good. It's about time we started making some headway in this case." Suddenly he sighed heavily and held his head in his hands for a moment. "Annabelle Houston's parents went to the press today, to plead for information regarding their daughter's murder. With this second body being discovered… once we have an identity and the press realizes there's a serial killer in town, all hell is going to break loose."

He spared his detectives a look of compassion, "Be prepared for public pressure, and _lots_ of it. This is likely to go national. Just… try not to let it shake you. If we stand any chance at catching this guy before he strikes again, you both need to be on your game."

Maggie frowned and Dean nodded, his voice a confident growl as he spoke, "We got it. I don't plan on letting this asshole roam free for long."

Hunter opened his mouth, wanting desperately to say something more to his niece, but he couldn't find the right words. Instead he nodded at the both of them and brusquely said, "Good work today, Detectives. Go home, get some rest if you can. You'll need it." With a dismissive wave of his large hand he watched them exit the office.

Suddenly he was exhausted himself, and he popped a couple Tylenol with a hefty gulp of water, hoping naively that Stephanie wouldn't be too mad at him for missing another dinner.

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A/N: Whoo, and the plot _thickens_. As always, thank you to all my readers, and an extra extra special thanks to everyone who takes the time to review! I wub you all. See you next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Daddy Dearest

_She was eleven again. It was the anniversary of her mother's death, and as usual her father had drowned his sorrows in a fifth of cheap vodka. He lay face down on the couch, one hand still curled protectively around his empty bottle of booze. Magnolia made herself dinner, spaghetti and garlic bread, and sat down at the dirty kitchen table to eat. She had placed a framed photo of her mother in front of her, and as she ate she furiously wiped her tears on a paper napkin._

_It wasn't long before she had lost her appetite entirely, her father's drunken rumblings from the living room were too painful to ignore. "Magnolia!" He called hoarsely, and with a sigh she pushed herself away from the table and went to him._

"_Yes, Daddy?" She knelt by the couch and grimaced at the drool dangling from his open mouth._

"_Smells like food." He slurred at her, "Where's my food?" He lifted one arm to pat her on the head and, though he reeked of alcohol and body odor, she felt a momentary surge of love. Maybe tonight he would be nice. That still happened, sometimes._

"_Do you want a plate, Daddy? We-" she hiccoughed with emotion, "we could sit at the table together…?"_

_Bitterly he laughed, and the hand patting her head moved with a sudden, snakelike speed as he backhanded her roughly across the cheek. Tears stung her eyes as she clutched at her cheek and promptly she rose to her feet. It sickened her that she had gotten her hopes up._

"_Fuckin' bitch." She heard him grumble behind her, "I'm not moving from this couch 'till I get some MORE VODKA!" The last was a roar, and suddenly terrified that he would find the drunken strength to come after her, she ran back into the kitchen._

_With a sob she grabbed the photo of her mother and clutched it desperately to her chest, trying to bring back the memories of better times. Before her mother died, before her father fell apart, before-_

_With a crash the front door banged open, splintering apart around the deadbolt that she had turned herself. Frozen in fear, Magnolia listened carefully as intruders entered her home and harassed her father._

"_Well, well, now isn't this a surprise. George Henley passed out in a puddle of his own drool and filth."_

"_Leave me 'lone…" she heard her father mumble fearfully._

"_Oh, Georgie, that's not going to happen. Remember when you came to me for that loan? Remember how you begged and pleaded? You said you were good for it, Georgie, and I trusted you." His voice was dangerously cheerful._

_There was a harsh cry of pain from her father and Magnolia flew to the doorway, peeking one amber eye around the corner to see what was going on. Three men had entered the house, two of them obvious henchmen. The third man slowly surveyed the house as his lackeys kicked and abused her father._

"_This is a real shit hole you got here, Georgie! I guess you must have drank away all your valuables already. That's a real shame… you know if you can't pay me what you owe me… I'll have to let my friends here teach you a lesson."_

_At a nod from their leader, one of the burly men grabbed him by his hair and wrenched his head back painfully. Magnolia watched his drunken eyes roll about in terror as the other man seized his empty liquor bottle and smashed it over his head. Immediately the blood began to pour and she could take no more. Though she knew it would be wisest to run and hide, instead she charged into the room, tearfully pleading for her father's life._

"_No, no, stop it! Stop it, please…." She sobbed, throwing herself in front of her father, pitiful wretch that he was._

"_Hold up, boys." The man in charge spoke, a devilish light coming into his cruel eyes. "Maybe you can pay me back after all, Georgie…."_

_Magnolia trembled in fear, shaking her head wordlessly as the henchmen laughed at her._

_The leader patted her gently on the head before running his hand down to gently cup her still red cheek. She shrunk from his touch and turned back to her father. She shook him roughly, but the blow from the bottle had knocked him out cold and he would not wake._

"_Good news, little girl." She turned slowly back around at the sinister voice, finding a spark of bravery and facing the man in charge with a fierce glare. He laughed at her defiance and went on, "The good news is, you don't have to live with your deadbeat dad anymore!"_

_His henchmen laughed raucously at his joke, and Magnolia took a trembling step away from them. Then, with all the courage she could muster she sprinted for the back door. She took them by surprise, but unfortunately she was no match for their speed and strength. Suddenly a hand grabbed a fistful of her long hair and yanked her roughly onto her back. Her head bounced painfully off the hardwood floor, and bright stars danced in her vision._

_Then, suddenly, big hands held her down as some foul cloth was balled up and stuffed into her mouth. She screamed and clawed as they taped her mouth closed, and still they only laughed at her. She screamed and fought until her face was purple as they taped her wrists and ankles together. One of her wild kicks landed solidly, shattering one of the burly men's noses and bringing forth a torrent of blood. In response, he grabbed another fistful of her hair and slammed her head painfully back down onto the hardwood. That was enough to quiet her, and the world spun briefly before she disappeared into blackness…._

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Maggie was crying and shaking when she woke up, and for a moment she expected to be right where the memory had left off, captive and afraid. Instead she managed to recognize Hunter's guest house, and with a shudder she realized she was safe. Safe… and alone. The tears began to flow with renewed vigor and she curled herself around her pillow, sobbing in silence.

She missed Shawn so much, the only father she ever wanted to remember, and the only one who could make her nightmares go away. Even more than the pain of losing him, it hurt to think that she had regressed so painfully back to her childhood fears. Surely the case wasn't helping, with all the grisly similarities. It was a harsh reminder that her own life could have been so easily snuffed out, her body discarded like a broken toy… if it hadn't been for Shawn and Hunter.

Maggie continued to cling to the pillow until the tears stopped flowing, and then she dragged herself slowly out of bed. She stumbled into the bathroom, her tired body protesting every step of the way. With shaky hands she turned the tap on and splashed her face with bitterly cold water. Gradually she gathered her strength and faced herself in the mirror. She had been saved, she reminded herself harshly, and she had moved on.

Every day she woke up breathing was a gift, and this case was only serving to remind her that so many others had been robbed of that chance. Her entire life since the rescue had been devoted to making her existence _mean_ something. If she could only rescue others, as Shawn and Hunter had rescued her… It was with that goal that she had started her career with the police, and as detective she had saved a number of people who would have otherwise become victims.

Still, it wasn't enough. Since Shawn had died and the nightmares had returned full force Maggie had felt so much like her eleven year old self again. She was agonizing over this case, and until it was solved she would continue to agonize over it. Two girls had lost their lives… two girls so much like she had been, stolen and alone and frightened and unable to fight back because someone wanted to hurt them and that someone was so much _bigger_ and_ stronger_.

With a heavy hearted sigh Maggie turned the tap off and dried her face. She just needed to get a hold of herself. Every minute the killer remained free he could be hurting someone else. Maggie would gladly give her life to see him caught, but she couldn't allow this case to consume her. She was no good to anyone if she was getting no sleep and jumping at shadows.

As she returned to the bedroom Maggie forced her mind to focus on more pleasant subjects. Surprisingly, the smirking face of Dean Ambrose was the first thing she thought of, and a smile lit up her tired eyes. Truly she had just met the man, and though she knew it was unwise to become so quickly attached to her new partner, she couldn't deny the bond that was forming between them.

With a glance at her alarm clock she realized it was only 3 AM, and she decided it would be worth it to try and go back to sleep. As she curled herself back into the soft bed her exhaustion quickly overtook her. Her last thoughts were of Dean, his almost painful good looks, his cocky smile, and his biting wit. She slipped back into slumber lost in the image of his bright blue eyes, and somehow, she made it through the next few hours without any nightmares.

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Dean slipped on his sunglasses and stepped from his car into the bright early morning sunlight, headed for his regular coffee stop on the way to the station. Thankfully there was no line and the barista started on his usual order the moment he walked in. At the last minute he decided to order one extra coffee, one of those girly, frozen drinks with whipped cream and drizzled chocolate on top.

Ten minutes later and he was pulling smoothly into the parking lot at the station. He killed the engine and took a moment to sit in the silence of his car, preparing for the day and whatever hell may be coming his way. As he sat there, a battered black sedan puttered its way onto the lot and he smirked, knowing it was Maggie's. Somehow the day felt a little brighter already as he watched her lock up her car and walk inside, dressed sharply in a cream colored pantsuit that managed to hug her curves in all the right places.

Suddenly eager to make it inside himself, he snagged his two coffees and exited the car.

"Hey, Dean!" he heard the call from behind and Seth Rollins quickly jogged up to him.

"Seth." He nodded in greeting and they fell into step together. "Did you make it in time to drop off the evidence last night?"

Seth nodded, busily pulling his two toned hair back into a ponytail. "Yeah, Daniel was just about to leave for the night but I convinced him it was important enough to stay late."

Dean rolled his eyes, "He should be grateful it wasn't me that came knocking. I sure as hell wouldn't have been nice about it." He pulled open the heavy door to the station and they filed inside.

"Right. Once I threatened him with your ungodly wrath he was more than happy to take the time."

Dean smirked at his friend, "You jest, but I woulda kicked his ass for sure. You know, for the greater good and all that."

"Oh Dean, you're such an honorable detective." Seth said in a falsetto and mockingly batted his eyelashes. He was rewarded with a fierce glare. "Come on now, just pretend I'm Maggie."

"That's it, Seth, you're officially on my shit list today." With that, he stalked away and up the staircase, Seth's laughter following him the whole way.

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Maggie was sitting at her desk and putting together the file on their second victim. She also added in the notes she had taken from their interviews yesterday. Mostly she was waiting in grim anticipation for Detective Jericho to find the girl's identity so that her parents could be notified. Then they would have to come identify the body, and… slowly Maggie set her pen down and closed her eyes, resting her head in her hands. Depression wasn't going to help her solve this case. With fierce resolve she regained her focus and finished her notes.

She nearly jumped when a muscular arm reached over her shoulder and deposited a coffee on the desk in front of her. Not just any coffee, either, but a deliciously frozen concoction full of sugar, cream, coffee, and more sugar. Just the way she liked it. With an undignified squeal of delight she took a long drink from the straw, and it was heavenly. She could practically feel the caffeine begin to buzz through her veins.

"Thank you, thank you." She purred, and as Dean walked around her desk to take a seat at his own she blushed at his smug smile. "Damn," she said after another long drink, "I really needed this."

Dean laughed and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "I was half tempted to dump it on you, you know. But only half tempted."

She laughed despite herself at the memory of yesterday's coffee fiasco, "I suppose I should be grateful. It's not like I have a clean shirt to change into."

At that Dean's eyebrows quirked in amusement, "I doubt you'd get many complaints if you walked around topless."

She nearly choked on a slurp of her coffee and flushed a fierce crimson. Unfortunately she couldn't produce a comeback quickly enough and Dean snickered at her embarrassment. She was only saved from the moment as Detective Jericho finally sauntered over to her desk, and the frown on his face brought them both back to more serious thoughts.

"Hey Maggie, Dean. I think I found your match." he sighed, placing a single printed page on her desk. It was a missing persons report. Paper clipped to it was a small photograph that immediately caught her eye.

"Fuck," she mumbled softly, "that's her…" The photo was a school picture, and the sunny looking blonde girl on it beamed brightly at the camera with chocolate brown eyes and a toothy grin.

Dean picked up the paper and studied the sparse information printed there. "Olivia Carter, eleven years old." He muttered angrily, and one of his hands clenched tightly into a fist. "Goddamn it. Have the parents been notified yet?"

Chris nodded sadly, "I took the liberty of going out there myself to let them know. They're headed down to identify the body now."

Maggie fiddled compulsively with her long braided hair and gave the older detective a grateful look, "Thanks, Chris." She spoke softly.

"No problem, Maggie. Unfortunately…" He grimaced and set something else on her desk, the morning's newspaper. "You guys are going to have the press on your asses by the end of the day."

Her amber eyes widened as she took in the front page of the paper. Underneath one of the last photos of a smiling Annabelle Houston the headline read: **'Spokane Serial Killer on the Loose'**.

She groaned in horror at the printed page and quickly scanned the article. The press had found out about the second victim, and it was easy enough to connect the dots. The article was brief but alarming, and Maggie winced when she read her own name as well as Dean's printed as the 'team handling the investigation.' Clearly the journalist had a source in the department.

"Fuckin' fear mongers." Dean cursed, "This is the last thing I want to deal with right now."

Chris gave a rather weak attempt at a reassuring smile and rested his hand gently on Maggie's, though he withdrew it with haste at a sharp look from Dean. He coughed to cover the awkward moment, and with genuine compassion he spoke, "I just figured someone should give you guys a heads up before a crowd gathers outside demanding information."

Dean nodded, his eyes softening just a little. He did have a grudging respect for the man, even if he found him annoying as hell. "Yeah, we appreciate it."

Maggie rested her head wearily on her desk and mumbled a thank you. Now they would have to waste precious time on a press conference, and if the investigation went on much longer… the public would crucify them. Jericho ambled back to his own desk, feeling rather depressed at being the bearer of more bad news.

Dean ran a hand over his slicked back hair and glanced at Maggie. His blue eyes warmed suddenly, and with concern he reached out to gently squeeze her shoulder. She looked up the instant she felt his touch, and her eyes gleamed with some strong emotion as they met his. They sat frozen in that moment until Dean reluctantly broke the contact. His voice was low and earnest as he spoke, "Don't worry, Mags. Nothing's gonna stop us catching this asshole."

It was like a jolt of electricity when she rewarded his effort with a soft smile and his gaze was drawn again to her pink lips. Somehow he forced himself to look back at his desk and he took a long drink of coffee, his throat suddenly dry.

"You're right." She sighed and quickly added their new information, everything about little Olivia Carter, to the case file. Dean leaned toward her and they studied the file together, looking for anything to link the two victims together. "They went to different schools," she muttered, "lived in different parts of town…"

Maggie frowned, studying the missing persons report, "It says here Olivia left home headed for a local store to buy some candy… parents said it was five blocks away, and a regular thing. She just didn't come back home the last time."

Suddenly Dean sat bolt upright, struck by a moment of inspiration. His brow furrowed as he turned to his computer and pulled up a map. He smoothly typed in Olivia's home address and as it displayed he smirked in triumph. "Bingo. Olivia lived two blocks away from Franklin Park. It's on the way to the store… she must have crossed through the park a million times to get there. Not the same one Annabelle was snagged from, but I doubt it's a coincidence. I think we just found our killer's M.O."

Maggie grinned at Dean, suddenly feeling like they were making headway. "There's something to give the press. We'll have to warn parents away from letting their kids hang out in the parks alone."

Dean nodded, but before he could say anything further they were interrupted by the chorus of a Led Zeppelin song. Maggie couldn't help but giggle a little as he frantically dug in his pocket for his cell phone. Finally he pulled it out and checked the caller id before answering, his expression suddenly serious.

"Give me some good news, Daniel."

"_Hey to you too, Dean. Anyway the analysis is complete on your mystery substance."_

"Good, whaddaya got?" he growled.

"_It's weed killer. Professional grade. Can't tell you anything more than that."_

Dean's eyes sparkled with thought as he curtly replied, "Thanks for rushing that analysis, Daniel."

"_Yeah, well, I hope it was important. See you arou-"_

Dean snapped the cell phone closed and smirked with confidence at his partner. "Weed killer, Mags, that's what was on her hand."

Maggie's eyes shot wide open, "We- we need to start interviewing groundskeepers!" she gushed in a wave of excitement, suddenly feeling more like a hunter and less like she was chasing her own tail.

Dean nodded, "Every one in the whole goddamn city if that's what it takes." He grinned, "Now let's get moving before we have to push our way through the press to get outside."

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"Nothing, fucking nothing!" Dean growled as they climbed back into his Challenger, slamming the door a little too roughly. The day had burned out to darkness around them as they scoured the city, interviewing every groundskeeper, landscape artist, and maintenance worker. They even tracked down the retired ones… anyone they could think of who had access to professional grade weed killer.

Maggie sighed in frustration. Every one they had interviewed had an alibi for the time of either one or both murders, and they all willingly complied to a search of their homes and vehicles. Somehow, despite their best efforts they had turned up nothing. No new clues, no new suspects, not even the slightest _hunch. _It felt like a wasted day.

"We must have missed someone." She spoke, her own voice filled with anger at their lack of progress. "Maybe it's not even related. Shit, maybe she just tripped in the park and got some on her hand."

Dean shook his head vehemently, his wavy blonde hair refusing to stay slicked back and tumbling loosely about his face. "No way, Maggie. We're fucking _right_ about this, I can feel it. Half these guys drive around in vans, for Christ sake, nobody would think twice to see one at the parks. It's practically the perfect kidnapping vehicle."

She nodded, knowing that he was right. Her own instincts were screaming that they were on the right track, even though they had nothing to show for it. A dull headache began throbbing in her temples. "Where the hell do we go from here…?" She mumbled sadly.

Suddenly a chime issued from her pocket and Maggie pulled out her own cell phone, frowning that she had missed three text messages. As she quietly read them she felt the blood drain from her face and her heart began pounding in her chest.

_I heard about Shawn. You can't hide from me any more Magnolia_

_You ruined my life you ungrateful bitch_

_I wish you were dead_

With a shiver she stuffed her phone back into her pocket and took a shuddering breath. There was only one person who would have sent her those hateful messages. There was only one person who had always called her Magnolia. She didn't know how her birth father had gotten her number, but she forced herself to calm down with the thought that he was surely still in San Francisco. Violently she missed Shawn again, and her eyes filled with bitter tears.

Dean noticed her distress immediately and frowned, the urge to comfort her stronger than he could have anticipated. He narrowed his eyes at her cell phone as she re pocketed it, wondering what could have upset her. When he spoke, his gravelly voice was almost gentle. "You okay, Mags?"

Maggie tried to blink her tears away and took a deep breath, "I'm fine, it's nothing." She refused to let Dean worry over her when they had bigger issues to deal with.

After Shawn had adopted her, she had been given a restraining order against her birth father and she hadn't seen or heard from him since. There was no point in letting him get to her now. Besides, if he even _did_ come to Spokane to harass her, she could certainly handle herself better now than she could as a child. There was no need to fear him anymore.

Dean leaned a bit closer to her, and in an overwhelming surge of protectiveness he delicately grabbed her chin and forced her watery amber eyes to meet his own. "Nothing doesn't usually make people cry."

He spoke softly, wanting more than anything for her to confide in him so that he could make her feel better. There was so much about her that he didn't know. He moved his hand from her chin and rested it lightly on her shoulder.

At Dean's gentle touch she nearly lost control and told him everything. Though they had known each other for such a short time, she almost painfully longed to just throw herself into his arms and cry. Yet… she just couldn't stand the thought of him seeing her as weak, so she quirked her lips into a smile and got a hold of herself. He was the best partner she had ever had, and there was no way she was going to lose his respect by turning into a crybaby.

"It's okay, Dean. I just- I just heard from someone I haven't seen in a very long time." She did her best to sound light hearted and failed, but desperately she hoped he would take her at her word. They didn't have the time to go over her fucked up past right now.

Still frowning slightly, Dean nodded with doubt and decided not to push the issue. Whatever it was that bothered her so much was buried deep, and he knew all too well how much it hurt to open up old wounds. "Alright. But…" he paused, trying to choose his words carefully, "You shouldn't be afraid to talk to me. We need to be able to trust each other."

Maggie nodded. She was too afraid to speak again for fear that she would blurt out the whole ugly mess, so instead she just offered him a smile.

Dean lit up a cigarette and started his car, trying to ignore the instinct that something was very wrong. Unfortunately, he was terrible at ignoring his instincts. Even as he forced his mind back to the urgency of their case, his thoughts continually returned to Maggie and the heart broken look in her beautiful amber eyes.

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A/N: Holy hell, that chapter wound up much longer than I thought it would. Dun dun dunnn.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Okay it's been way too long since I updated. I'm so sorry! Real life stuff came up all at once and bit me on the ass, and it's taken me a long time to get back to being motivated enough to work on this story. A super heartfelt thanks to everyone who reads this story! It will be finished, I promise. It means so much to me to know that people are enjoying it, so please review!

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Chapter 7: A Flash Of Steel

It had been three long days since they had made any headway in the case. Three agonizing days full of interviews, research, and concerned parents crowded outside the station demanding answers. The journalists were having a field day, and they circled like hyenas around a fresh carcass. Hunter had held a press conference himself to try to keep their fevered curiosity at bay, but after three long days with no new leads the press had become relentless. The carcass had been picked clean and without new meat to throw them they were going to incite the public into riot.

And why shouldn't they? Bitterly Maggie rested her head on the desk in her room and turned her tired eyes to the clock. The display read 2:28 am, and the bright red numbers stayed burned on the back of her eyelids as they slowly closed, feeling impossible heavy. Her cheek rested on the open case file, now filled with endless pages of speculation and notes that she and Dean had been tormenting themselves over for three days. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard her cell phone vibrating restlessly on the desk, but exhaustion had already claimed her and she fell unwillingly into a deep slumber.

Unfortunately it didn't last long; Maggie was drug abruptly from her dreams by some faraway commotion that her brain didn't quite have the power to analyze. The digital clock read 4:41 am. Sleepily she rubbed the paper creases from her cheek, thankful that at least she hadn't drooled all over the case file. The flashing light from her cell phone caught her attention and she reached for it with grim anticipation, already knowing who her latest messages were from.

The texts from her father hadn't stopped, and somehow had continued to grow only nastier as he sought to vent the frustration of his ruined life on the daughter who had managed to escape it. She flipped the phone open with one hand as she ran the other shakily through her unbound hair.

_I never could get you to shut up when you were a brat, Magnolia. Now I can't even get a hello?_

_We need to talk. You just don't understand_

_You RUINED me bitch you don't deserve to be happy_

_knock knock_

Her amber eyes were wide with horror as she read the last message over and over again, and suddenly the noise from outside was all too clear. It was Hunter, his voice a barely restrained bellow, thick with anger. Swallowing her fear, Maggie nearly tripped over herself in her haste to get outside and see for herself. She paused only once, when the glint of her service pistol caught her eye and after only a moment's hesitation she picked it up and sprinted out the front door of the guest house. The sight that greeted her knocked the air from her lungs and she managed only a few shaking steps before she froze like a deer in headlights.

In that one agonizing instant she saw every tiny detail – Hunter, looking as brave and intimidating as she had ever seen him, using his body as a rather literal barricade. Behind him, standing on the steps to the main house, was Stephanie. She was tense with anger, her own eyes flashing dangerously as she kept one hand firmly on the doorknob and the other held her cell phone to her ear. _She's calling for backup,_ Maggie realized dimly.

Directly in front of Hunter, and looking as though he had stepped straight from her nightmares into reality, cowered the man she had once called her father. He had changed very little since she had last seen him. His eyes were dark with malevolence, rolling wildly about in his attempt to look anywhere but at Hunter. He was mumbling something incoherent and scuffing his dirty shoes in the grass. His shirt had the appearance that it may once have been rather nice, but now it was smeared with too many stains to count, and missing so many buttons that it blew open in the breeze. In her paranoia she could smell him from across the yard – vodka and vomit… the smell of her childhood.

Maggie snapped back to her senses just as his hate filled amber eyes locked on her own. For a second, they sparkled with triumph and he cried out, "I _knew_ it, pig! I knew you were hiding her!"

Hunter whirled with surprise, his eyes full of concern, and her father suddenly bolted past him in a surge of drunken strength. He stumbled as he ran, but he looked almost giddy, like a child who has caught a butterfly and is seized with the sick desire to rip its wings off.

Several things happened in the very next moment; the sound of police sirens began a distant wail, just as Hunter bolted into action and attempted to grab her father from behind. Unfortunately, he tripped just as Hunter's hand was reaching for his shirt and he tumbled gracelessly to the ground at Maggie's slipper clad feet. It was as if she was watching the entire event from somewhere far away, and with cold clarity she realized she had raised her gun.

The sound of the safety clicking back seemed to echo in her ears, but her hand was steady as she aimed the gun at the man sprawled at her feet.

"Maggie, it's okay-" Hunter began, his voice suddenly calm and reassuring. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized it was how he spoke during hostage situations. "Backup is on their way right now. He's in violation of his restraining order, he'll be arrested."

"Arrested…" her voice sounded hollow to her own ears as her mind mercilessly flashed with old memories, still painful after so many years. "He put your family in danger… because he wants _me_, Hunter."

Slowly her father raised his head, staring down the barrel of the gun like it was nothing more than a water squirter. He lifted one filthy hand and grabbed the hem of her nightgown, fixing her with a glare that would have sent her running when she was a child. "You-" he growled out, "you rotten little bitch. Everything is _your fault_! We were a family, but you" he hiccoughed, and he raised himself shakily until he was kneeling in front of her. "_You left me to suffer!_" Spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed at her, his eyes feverishly bright "_I _was punished, because _you _were just a stupid little _whore_ and got yourself-"

Hunter's fist collided solidly with the back of his head, cutting off any further ranting, and the shell of the man she had once called Daddy flopped limply forward onto the grass. As if on cue, the sirens reached a shrill crescendo and two police cruisers swung neatly into the driveway. Maggie remained fixed to the spot, as though her father's crazed eyes were still searing into her, his vehement words echoing around in her sleep deprived mind. She didn't even realize she was still holding the gun up until Hunter's hand gently seized her own, and he pried the pistol from her tense grip.

He pulled her forward into an embrace, and Maggie realized suddenly that he had been terrified. She wondered bleakly what had frightened him more, his family being put in danger… or the thought that she might become a murderer on his front lawn. But then he pulled back and as his watery eyes locked on hers she felt the cold wall that had been holding her emotions back shatter. She cried in his arms for what felt like an eternity but really only lasted a couple of minutes; just long enough for a pair of officers to drag her handcuffed father into their cruiser and take off again, no doubt directed by Stephanie to get the filth off of her property as soon as possible. Hunters hand soothingly stroked her hair, just as he had done when she had first met him. It was that action, oddly enough, that brought her back to the present moment.

She was a child no longer… and the woman she had grown to become was too strong to fall apart now. With a deep breath she pulled away from his embrace, but gave his hand a grateful squeeze as he returned her gun. Only one cruiser remained, and she realized with mild horror that it belonged to Reigns and Rollins, and they leaned casually against it at the edge of the driveway, no doubt waiting for them to give some kind of statement about the events of the early morning.

As her eyes locked with Romans steely grey gaze he pushed away from the cruiser and strode confidently across the grass towards her, Seth just a half step behind him. She felt a moment's dismay that this would probably change the way they thought about her. No more cool, confident Detective Michaels. Now they'd only see her as the sad, vulnerable little girl Hunter and Shawn had taken pity on so long ago. With a sharp shake of her head she dismissed those thoughts and wiped the tears from her face. She managed a shaky, but honest smile and was rewarded when Seth reached out a hand to reassuringly squeeze her shoulder.

"Yeah, so…" he began, flipping his notebook open and glancing quickly between her and Hunter, "that looked pretty scary."

Roman nodded, his eyes full of curiosity but also the wisdom that he probably shouldn't ask the questions he wanted to. "What's the story?"

"Well, I-" Maggie began, but was smoothly interrupted by Hunter.

"Broken restraining order, boys. Detective Michaels…" here he paused, looking for the right choice of words, "and myself managed to restrain the suspect until you arrived. Get that guy in front of a judge ASAP and make sure you push for jail time. If we're lucky, maybe he's got some outstanding warrants in California and we can ship him back to be their problem."

Roman nodded and recorded carefully in his notebook. "You got it, Chief."

Seth gave her a slow, thoughtful look before he turned to Hunter, "I don't know the history here, but I'd say it's unlikely any judge is going to lock him up for long just based on what happened this morning." He shrugged, but looked genuinely apologetic, "Considering he was unarmed… and especially if he mentions he was held at gunpoint."

Maggie blanched but held her composure. He was right, of course. Broken restraining orders were a fairly commonplace occurrence, and this was after all the first time he had dared to break it. He'd likely spend a day in jail and then the judge would order him released with a warning.

Hunter sighed, and for the first time that morning she noticed he looked as tired as she felt, "I know what it looked like when you got here… but criminal record or not, that guy is one of the biggest scumbags I've ever come across and I don't think he's going to give up with a warning." He turned to look at Maggie, his eyes warm, "He probably will be released. If and when that happens, I'm going to have to insist that you don't go anywhere alone. You're safe here, and at the precinct, but I want another officer with you at all times if you go anywhere else."

Maggie's eyes went wide with shock. "That's a little much, Hu- Chief. I can take care of myself now."

Hunter smiled then, and his eyes filled with a faraway sadness, "I know you can. But we were damn close to a much worse situation this morning."

She remembered the cold feel of the pistol in her hands, and the motion of her thumb robotically releasing the safety. The realization hit suddenly that he wasn't afraid for her _safety_ so much as he was afraid of her doing something she would regret. And she couldn't deny that seeing her father again had sliced right through her normally rigid self-control. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and nodded, "Fine. But I don't want any focus put on this… I have a case to work on and the less distractions I have to deal with, the better."

Hunter nodded and looked noticeably relieved as he turned back to Reigns and Rollins. "Okay boys, official statement is that George Henley" involuntarily she shuddered at the mention of her father's name, "violated his restraining order this morning in an attempt to see or possibly harm Maggie. He was restrained by myself and the detective while my wife called for backup. You're dismissed to go about your duties now." With that, he turned to go back to his house and, no doubt, comfort his severely pissed off wife.

Just as he reached the door, however, he turned back and called out, "I take it I don't need to tell you that this whole thing needs to be kept under wraps. If I hear the _slightest_ bit of office gossip about it…" He fixed Seth and Roman with his most menacing glare and then promptly went inside, the door slamming securely behind him.

Maggie watched the two officers she had regarded as early friends pull away in their cruiser, suddenly wanting nothing more than to forget the entire situation happened. She wondered if Hunter's threat would be enough to stop them from mentioning something to Dean, but somehow she doubted it. As she made it back to her bedroom she saw with horror that it was now after 5 am. All thoughts of sleep forgotten, she quickly made for the shower. As she pulled her nightgown over her head she noticed that her father had indeed left a grimy, smeared hand print behind on the hem, and with a wave of violent nausea she tossed the garment into the trash bin.

She cranked the water on as hot as she could stand and scrubbed furiously until her skin was pink, and mentally she scrubbed her mind of the events of the morning. She spent as long as she dared in the shower, already knowing that she was going to be late to work. Forgoing her usual habit of blow drying and braiding her hair, she hurriedly toweled off and dressed in a bottle green pant suit, taking just a moment to brush some concealer over the bags under her eyes and adding a bit of mascara and lipstick.

It was 5:42 by the time she made it back to her desk to retrieve the case file, and her eyes fell upon her open cell phone, still lying on the desk and displaying her text messages. Seized by sudden impulse she picked it up and snapped it fiercely in half before tossing it into the trash on top of her nightgown. Suddenly she felt nothing but confidence, grabbing the case file and hurrying to her car. Somehow she had a good feeling about today… a tickle in the back of her mind that told her they were going to get some kind of a break in the case.

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Maggie made the drive to the station in record time, but she was still fifteen minutes late. As her battered sedan puttered into its parking spot she noticed Dean waiting for her in the parking lot, smoking and tapping his foot impatiently against the pavement. As she swung her door open and climbed out she was seized with the momentary fear that perhaps Seth or Roman had already spoken to him. She could just imagine his fury at finding out what had happened, that she had been keeping it all secret from him…

She pasted on a hesitant smile and was just about to start explaining it all away when he impatiently stomped his cigarette out on the ground. "You're late, Mags." He spoke, low and gravelly, and as always her heart gave a tiny lurch at the sound of his nickname for her. Then he approached her and suddenly her mind went blank to everything but the sensation of his closeness, the intensity in his blue eyes, and his _scent…_ tobacco, soap, musk… she felt momentarily intoxicated.

Slowly he moved his hands and placed them gently on her upper arms, and she snapped herself out of her girlish reverie when he spoke again, "I got a call late last night from Judith Keats, remember her?"

Maggie's eyes widened and something like excitement got the wheels in her head turning, "Of course. The little old lady who lives in the woods?"

Dean smirked and dropped one of his hands, guiding her with the other one towards his car in the parking lot. He looked as if he was about to say more, but suddenly a rather industrious reporter was standing in their way, and a couple more were not far behind him.

"Detective Ambrose, Detective Michaels, I have some questions for you about the investigation…" he was slightly out of breath, just a rookie with a tape recorder, and his bright brown eyes were eager for information. "The public is in outcry about this whole terrible situation. Can you tell me if you have any new leads?" He shoved his tape recorder tactlessly in Maggie's face, but before she had time to do more than splutter with indignation Dean had tightened his grip on her arm and he steered them deftly around the growing crowd with nothing more than a deathly glare for the bold reporter.

They were running by the time they made it to his Challenger, and Maggie had never been more grateful to sink into the soft leather interior. Dean turned the key and the engine roared to life, sending the journalists scurrying back. Despite herself, Maggie let out a little laugh at the sight and clicked her seatbelt into place just as the car pulled smoothly out of the lot. "So," she began, turning her gaze back to Ambrose, "Mrs. Keats has more information for us?"

Dean nodded, a cocky half smile on his face, "She's been watching the news. Guess something jogged her memory."

Maggie wondered what she could possible want to tell them… what could be so important to call them back now, and what held her back from telling them in the first place? Just as her mind was racing with questions, Dean spoke again, shooting a sidelong glance at her as he pulled onto the highway and revved the car up to 70.

"So why were you late? You looked a little shook up when you got here." For a moment his eyes held her own, and she hurriedly turned her gaze away. Every time he gave her that look… it was like he could see into her soul, and the truth came bubbling up like bile.

"Just took a long shower this morning." She told a half truth and kept her gaze averted, "I'm just sleep deprived, that's all." The urge to confide in him was overwhelming, but this was not the time. They had a case to focus on, and she'd be damned before she let herself become a distraction to him. Besides, it was in the past now. Her father was sitting in a jail cell somewhere waiting to see a judge, and he'd probably never be bold enough to try to get to her again.

Dean watched the road, and he took so long to reply that she thought he wasn't going to. When he did speak, his words were chosen carefully, "Something serious is bothering you. Whatever it is, if it's not gonna get in the way of us solving this case, then… I won't push it." He shook a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke slowly out the window. "I just can't shake this feeling-" He stumbled a bit over his words and she turned her wide eyes toward him, "-its like, there's something wrong and it's killing me not to _know_, you know?" He laughed lightly and shot her a smile, and her breath was taken away at the sight, "I guess I've never felt that way before, Mags."

She dropped her gaze and looked guiltily into her lap. "It's… really nothing. Just some stuff that hasn't bothered me in a very long time. It all kind of reared its ugly head this morning, figuratively speaking." Again she was lost in the sensation of the cold steel in her hand and her father's hate-filled eyes, the very same color as her own. Her finger was on the trigger-

Maggie shoved those thoughts away and turned back to Dean, "I promise I won't take my mind out of the game. Nothing matters to me more than this case right now."

To her immense relief, Dean nodded his understanding. "That's good. Same here. It's just, I didn't ask because I was worried about the case. I asked…" He paused for a long moment, taking another drag off the cigarette like it was the only thing keeping him going, "…because I was worried about _you_, Mags."

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A/N: Okay, super dramatic chapter there so I had to end it on a *squeal* feel good moment. :3


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